The only proof of God’s existence you need.
Exhausted and sleepy, a group of about thirty people traveled back to more inhabitable weather conditions. We’d all trekked in sub-zero temperature to 12,500 ft for the last five days. Many of us came with no prior trekking experience. We were a fairly diverse group — a 60 year old Sikh retired army officer, a Bengali housewife, couple of school students, a newly married couple from the northeast on their honeymoon, CAs from Delhi and our group of college friends. We had a journey of about 9 hours ahead of us, and I expected to catch up on my sleep and get some rest. But very soon, I found all of us playing antakshari (A singing game popular in India)! Captured by the exuberance of music and nostalgia of singing the songs we grew up listening to, the fatigue vanished, and we sang and danced for the next 7 hours in a moving bus. Music strung our hearts together into a reverie, powerful enough to break barriers, and help us forget our pain to enjoy moments of joy.
We enjoyed ourselves, despite being terrible singers. I’m far from being modest here — Once my friend and I decided to sing in a party bus. We sang our favorite song, but we were so off-key, that not only the people we’d just met but even our friends left us in the bus alone. Of course, we went ahead and sang another song, but that only speaks of our (healthy) disregard for what others think. I confess I even lack comprehension. The intricacies of scales, chords, technicalities of composition and time signatures often elude my grasp, floating beyond the reach of my understanding. While some dissect the symphony, deciphering its notes and structures like a cryptic code, perhaps it’s the very distance from the technical nuances that help me see the magic, how nothing else seems to be as powerful as music.
I am filled with warmth and admiration as I watch my friend be able to bring people to sit together lost in a meditative trance, escape into a world they’ve envisioned with their love. I’m in awe when I read stories of rousing anthems in the civil rights movement bringing change. I often find solace in music I heard my father listen to while growing up. It’s so extraordinarily filled with magic that it can uplift spirits, heal aching hearts, and inspire revolutions. A familiar tune can transport you back to a specific moment in time, flooding your senses with nostalgia and emotions long forgotten. How a simple melody can ease the burdens of a weary soul or ignite a fire within that propels action and change. It’s as if music holds the keys to hidden chambers within our minds and hearts, unlocking emotions and memories we didn’t know existed. Music carries within it the echoes of joy, sorrow, love, and resilience, connecting us on a profound level that surpasses verbal communication, transcending the barriers of culture, ethnicity, and geography. The rhythmic pulse of drumming found in virtually every culture across the globe speaks to a primal connection to the heartbeat of life itself.
‘If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph: The only proof he needed for the existence of God was music.’ — Kurt Vonnegut
As long as there are hearts that beat in rhythm and souls that yearn for expression, music will continue to weave its spell, and if you’re the magician, bringing something so divine to the world of mere mortals, fret not AI or Autotune can never replace you. ❤
